


Running Warm and Sour and Mean

by eldee



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Gen, post-XMen 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-31
Updated: 2006-05-31
Packaged: 2017-10-12 08:18:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/122831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eldee/pseuds/eldee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A soldier goes in search of his leader.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Running Warm and Sour and Mean

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sionnain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sionnain/gifts).



> Written for sionnain.

_There's a feeling running through me  
Running warm and sour and mean  
What goes through my head?_

"Sweet Black Air" - The Philosopher Kings

 

Jamie Maddox stood in his boxed cell, it being no bigger than a coffin. It was tight, cramped, upright, and had one very important feature to it – it was only big enough for one. That was why he was only Jamie right now – he had been denied the room and accessibility to become who he _really_ was. It was nearly as bad as having that 'cure' forced upon him.

Well, not quite. Not at all, really. He still had that feeling in the pit of his stomach, the one that needed ( _wanted_ ) to spread out and move around and become more than just one man. His real self was not gone, thankfully, but remained in forced dormancy.

Which wouldn't be so if they would just hurry the fuck up and rescue him already. They had said a couple of days, at most, but it had already been a couple of weeks. He figured that the attack hadn't gone quite as planned despite giving himself up as a diversion. That was the annoying part, really, and he just wanted out.

He didn't think Magneto was coming for him anymore. He didn't think _anyone_ was coming for him, but he sure as hell hoped someone remembered what he had done, and where it had gotten him. He'd be right some pissed off if they didn't.

Just then, he heard what seemed to be a bit of a ruckus outside his box cell. He had no idea what was going on, but that was more muffled noise making its way into his cell than since he was (re)placed in there. But it wasn't quite the familiar sound of metal crunching that released him last time, so he wasn't sure what to think of it.

But, despite these doubts, the door magnificently opened once again, and a familiar face – though, more tired, ragged, and (if possible) more angry and determined – peered in at him.

"Multiple Man. Give your legs a stretch."

Jamie smiled and the multiple men stepped out to their freedom.

***

He knew there was something wrong from a mile away. Warren could see, even from the distance, that there was a fire on his father's estate that did not belong there. And nearly all the lights in the mansion were out, save for one. He knew this as sure as the winds that whipped through his wings that cold night. And he knew that, despite the obvious risks, he would investigate. How could he not?

Warren landed softly and approached the house cautiously, his wings folded in tight, his back against the wall, trying to conceal the white feathers from the silvery moon. It wasn't enough, though; they knew he was there, had perhaps even expected him. His wings spread instinctively, easier to fight or flight, but within seconds he was pushed up against a wall by several men who looked the same. Warren cried out when the metal stakes drove through his wings and pinned him to the wall.

Through the pain, Warren was just working out the plan of escape when a moment later, the same several man – accompanied by a younger man who Warren _knew_ he'd seen pictures of before – exited the house…with Warren's father tied up in captive.

Warren Worthington II whimpered when he saw his son, struggling not to call out to him. The younger man with blond-tipped hair walked – no, strolled, as if he had all the time in the world – over to Warren, and stood in front of him, appraising him. In a sudden movement, he reached over and grabbed a handful of feathers. Warren gave a deep, pained grunt as they were pulled out of him.

"Well, now. Who will tell me how to reverse the cure?" the angry young man demanded.

Warren and his father met eyes, and knew to remain silent. Moments of silence passed, and the young man sighed and scowled. Turning to face Warren, the handful of his own feathers was held up in front of his face and they suddenly burst into flames. The smell on the air was enough to make Warren sick, but the Firestarter breathed in deep and smiled maniacally.

"Looks like we're having roast duck tonight."

"It doesn't work!" his father cried out in panic.

"Dad, no!"

The smiled dropped from the Firestarter's face and he roughly grabbed one of Warren's wings, twisting it so that he couldn't help but release a sob of pain. With a cold and calculated look, he turned to Warren's father. "Tell me more."

***

"Tell me where he is, Mystique."

"It's Raven now."

"Like fuck it is."

So, he knew. The little soldier boy lounging on the chair in her tiny, dingy hotel room knew the cure was fading. She had entered the room to find him looking sprawled and relaxed in the ragged chair, but she wasn't fooled. His eyes were quick and alive, the fingers of his hand twitching. She knew she wasn't dealing with a human, but a mutant, and one she knew well.

She took a step forward, but he put his hand up, a small ball of flame crackling. "Stop right there, Mystique," he commanded, jumping to his feet, ready to defend himself.

The boy had _some_ brains at least, knowing that while her powers may be temporarily repressed, she could still kick his scrawny ass.

"Tell me."

"No."

It was as simple as that, really. She wasn't going to lie, say she didn't know, he'd see right through that. Keep friends close, enemies closer. Which, of course, was the only reason she hadn't gone after him herself yet; she certainly wasn't the only one keeping a close eye on Erik.

Though, apparently, Pyro thought she'd be the one he'd go to for help. Silly little mutant boy.

In a quick movement, she grabbed and hurled a vase at him, still able to catch him off guard and hit him upside the head. She knew what was coming next, and jumped through the door, rolling across the pavement just as the room burst into flames.

With agility, she jumped to her feet and was ready for attack when she was surrounded by at least fifty men. She was good, but she wasn't _that_ good. At least, not like _this_ , she thought with disgust. She looked past the faces and saw Pyro standing in the door way, huge flames billowing around him, though none touched him, as the room began to burn down around him. He smirked at her, and she gave a wry smile.

At least the young man had learned something from her teachings.

***

For a moment, Bobby thought that John had returned to the Institute. At first glance, it seemed the only reason why Bobby would find John standing there in front of him, staring at Charles Xavier's monument. But then the voice snaked its way through the dawn that had barely begun to peak through the trees of the school grounds, and Bobby knew he was dealing with Pyro.

"I don't care what he said. I would have done it. For him, I would have done it."

"What are you doing here, Pyro?" Bobby asked softly, not wanting to startle the unstable mutant, though he had a suspicion that John had known that he was standing behind him all along.

John turned to him and smiled menacingly. "So you're still alive, then?"

"The Phoenix didn't kill me, no," Bobby answered simply, guarded against his former friend.

John smirked. "Yeah. 'Cause that's what I mean." It was said in a way that indicated that it certainly _wasn't_ meant that way.

Despite his efforts, Bobby still found himself caught off guard by John's presence and his response. He didn't notice in time as the John's fingers flicked at the oil lamp that constantly burned for Charles Xavier until it was too late. John directed the fire at the trees that surrounded them and they burst into flame.

Bobby directed his power at the tree closest to the school, extinguishing it, and turned back to stop John, but found that he was no longer standing there. Glancing around, he saw a jet of flame moving along – as if its controller was running along side the institute – setting the vines that grew on the wall aflame.

Bobby started to run after Pyro, who stopped targeting the school and was escaping the grounds, but paused in his tracks as he heard screams and hollers coming from inside the school. Sighing deeply, he dashed into the school to help the others, putting out flames along his way.

He let John go. For now, anyway.

***

The cup of coffee sat next to the chess board, starting to grow cold. The butter from the bagel started to seep through the little paper bag. And yet, Erik Lensherr could not bring himself to look from the metal pieces that sat in front of him. He had done so every morning for the last two weeks, ever since he felt the power growing back. It was only a matter of time, and every day, he felt more connected to the small pieces. He moved on to bigger and better things soon, he was certain of it. He just _knew_.

He was about to reach for one – very subtly, as he knew he was under surveillance – when a familiar mutant dropped himself into the chair across from him.

"So, this is where mutant villains go to fade away, is it?" Pyro asked him, sounding as bored and cocky as the day the two of them had met on that jet.

"Or to heal," Erik answered. He levitated the Knight piece toward Pyro, who easily caught it in his hand. "But you knew that."

Pyro smirked at him momentarily, but then his face grew sullen and serious. "We don't have much time."

"How much?"

"Enough. Let's just say they're a bit distracted this morning," Pyro said, and Erik could smell the burnt destruction on him. The younger mutant jumped up and nodded to a SUV that was parked just outside the park gate. "But we must go. Now."

Erik stood up and nodded back to him. "Lead the way."

Pyro froze for a moment, and Erik could see that look flicker through his eyes – he recognized it well. Confidence, control. Power.

But then Pyro bowed his head and gestured. "After you."

Magneto walked past him and smiled.


End file.
